Bewitchment
by Bear1magnati0n
Summary: A cat. A curse. A cure?
1. The Stray

This will probably be a bit strange, I am not entirely sure about this idea, though I have many for what way this could go. Hope you like it.

I don't own Sherlock, only the idea I have warped around the show.

…

Everything changed the night she found him. Molly had already been considering getting a companion, it was like a perfect stroke of luck, a true example of serendipity. Or maybe it was more akin to destiny for she could have easily walked away, could have left him to continue his existence without her in it.

**(O.O)**

The sun was setting and darkness was quickly overtaking the sky as she made her way home from work. The view was breathtaking, a beautiful mix of purples and fading reds. It would distract her if she wasn't used to walking to her flat after getting off the tube at night. So when she heard a crashing noise down the alleyway she was coming up on, she quickly reached inside her bag and took hold of her pepper spray.

If someone dared attack her they would be sorry she mentally vowed to herself trying to calm her nervously beating heart. She took deliberately slow steps as she got increasingly closer to the alley when she suddenly heard the sounds of some type of fight. Realizing quickly that it wasn't a fight amongst humans, she relaxed greatly her shoulders drooping from the fear that had gripped her a moment earlier.

Then the sound of the hiss, and one of the two creatures scurrying off followed by a yowl of pain from the one that remained in the alley, had her stopping to investigate. She really couldn't stand to see anything in pain. She had chosen not to be an actual doctor whose job it was to save lives in a big part due to her inability to take seeing the hurt the patients would be in or their loved ones grief should she fail to save them.

Now, however, it wasn't a human she looked upon, but a cat. Not just any cat, no, this cat seemed unexplainably special. It attempted to leave the alley and seemed to wince in pain and subsequently hold up its hurt paw then try to continue on its path.

It only appeared to notice her after she had moved closer and made a small sympathetic noise.

"Aww, you poor thing. What happened?" She talked to this mysterious creature. It was truly magnificent. With its black fur that held speckles of brown and ginger here and there. Yet, what she found truly dazzling was its eyes, a mix of blue and green that was even more mesmerizing than the unearthly mythical quality to most cats eyes. It left her gaping in stunned silence.

He lifted his head to look at the curly brown haired woman with the sweet and comforting chocolate brown eyes. He watched her eyes widen as soon as she looked him in the eyes. He seemed wary of her proximity to him and simply just her presence.

She got over her shock and naturally wanted to help the poor creature, the scratch went down its arm to its paw and looked rather in bad shape. Knowing she shouldn't attempt to touch the injured animal, at least be careful to ensure not to get scratched for her effort of helping, she tentatively reached forward only to have him flinch back.

"It's okay, I just want to help. Your injured and that looks quite bad. I think it needs to be treated, I can do that if you would let me." She reassured him as if he could understand her, hoping that her soothing tone would be enough to gain his trust. Instead, he still looked apprehensive.

Crouching down she once again reached out to touch the cat in a test to see if he would let her or attack. She paused in the gesture as his lips pulled back in a kind of snarl, though no noise came with it as if he was unsure of what to do in this situation. He watched her hand cautiously and when he saw that she stopped, he slowly moved his head closer to it and sniffed, uncertain.

Her offer to help seemed genuine and he was badly injured on his arm. He probably would need it to get treated and he could tell she had a medical background, he would have to take his chances with her. Besides, she smelled quite lovely and was obviously caring enough since she stopped to check and help a stray cat she saw.

She was pleasantly surprised by his acceptance when he nudged at her hand with his face after having smelled her. She rubbed behind his ear and he nearly purred at the sensation.

Glad that he had decided to let her help she carefully moved her arms around him and picked him up making sure not to further hurt his arm or paw.

**(O.O)**

She carried him the rest of the way to her flat then had to carefully juggle between holding him and getting her keys from her bag and actually inserting them into the door.

Once that feat was accomplished, she gingerly set him down inside in order to deposit her belongings in her flat and retrieve her medical kit.

She came back with the kit in hand and saw the cat hadn't moved from where she'd left him previously, but the look he had in his eyes, it was intelligent and almost appeared as if he was taking in his surroundings and cataloging everything.

_That wasn't exactly normal for a cat to do, was it?_ She thought to herself, but then dismissed it by saying to herself that it was probably due to him being a stray, he must've had to be aware of his surroundings at all times to avoid things like the altercation he'd had today.

His head instantly snapped up to look at her. Not just look from that gaze, it was like he was seeing her, everything about her. It was rather unnerving to see such a look of comprehension and awareness in the cat, and with it a great deal of intelligence that felt like it was naturally exuded from him.

She almost felt nervous in front of the cat. How odd.

She ignored those weird feelings and came to sit in front of the injured creature. Once again making sure to be slow and gentle in her movements so as to not alarm him or make him attack, she took his hurt arm in her hand and began to clean it while apologizing for the possible stinging.

It looked like he understood her, accepted her apology and did not try to flee or scratch her as she took his arm and began treating it. As she did this she couldn't help but talk to the stray.

"You know, this may take a while to properly heal. I hope it won't get infected. It would be better if I could keep checking on it." She gave a small laugh to herself. "But, well, you're a stray so you probably won't exactly be willing to stay here, huh?" She asked him with humor shinning in her eyes as she looked straight his beautiful blue ones.

He slightly titled his head and took on this new look to his face, almost as if he was seeing a different side to her that he was surprised to find as his eyes scanned her.

To her the little tilt in his head was rather cute and the perception behind those eyes a bit disconcerting no matter how special or amazing it made him. She didn't know of his mental war she had unknowingly caused.

This woman not only wanted to help him by treating his wound, but wished for him to stay here, for her to what? Take care of him, _own_ him. He refused to be owned by anyone despite her kindness. However, until this injury healed he would be at a disadvantage and may get further harmed either by other cats seeing and exploiting the weakness, or from his inability to function as per his usual. He was deeply considering this offer, he had thus far refused to be housed and become anyone's house cat. It would be dull and boring, and full of affection and love that he would be expected to return to whomever he stayed with.

The only person he semi allowed himself to do this with was that kind elderly woman at 221 Baker Street, Martha Hudson. She left food and water for strays to have outside her flat, but that is not how he met her nor was their relationship the same as hers with other strays in the neighborhood. That, however, was a story for another time and not the topic to be focusing on at the moment.

His thoughts were interrupted by the voice of the woman before him when she once again talked to him.

"I had actually thought about getting a cat. Maybe a rescue, I can't potty train a kitten, don't have enough time no matter how adorable the little ball of fluff would be." She had that certain smile of joy on her face that was quite pretty and rather dazzling to him. He cleared that thought from his mind.

"So, maybe…I mean if you want to, you are free to stay here. I think it would be for the best actually, but I will leave that choice up to you. Not that you understand that I am giving you one anyway." She said to herself as she finished up bandaging his arm.

He gave a small nod to her that made her gasp in surprise at him, it was like he understood her and was agreeing to stay. That couldn't be right though, how could the cat know what she was talking about?

She blinked rapidly for a few seconds before nodding back at him and saying, "Alright then." Then she gave a small snort of a laugh. "It's almost as if you can actually understand me, but that's not possible, _is it_?" She directed her question at him and he seemed to smile mischievously at her which only served to excite and unnerve her all in one.

He had clearly just indicated he did in fact know what she had said and that came as quite a shock to her. She had never read anything that claimed animals could ever understand humans so well. Sure they learned certain words, like a dog learned the word treat or walk and would get super excited hearing either, but for this cat to understand all her words so clearly was amazing yet unnatural. Even more so that he was responding in his own way to her words. They were communicating and that thrilled her, yet made her wonder about this strange cat. Especially concerning his clear intellect and ability to understand and respond to her words.

…

Okay, so this is a weird story that cropped up in my head when I read a story where Sherlock was compared to a cat because he laid his head in Molly's lap and had her tangle her hands through his hair in a way of relaxing. So, if you liked it please let me know. I am a bit unsure of where exactly this story will go, but I already have many ideas. As for why he is able to understand her, that will be revealed later, though you can probably already guess it.

Anyway, please tell me what you thought. Thanks.


	2. Habits and Oddities

Thank you to those who liked the idea for this story and will hopefully continue to like it.

Here's another chapter for you. Enjoy.

Sherlock does not belong to me.

…

He watched from the side while she flitted about the kitchen just as she had done the night previous.

She hadn't been properly prepared to actually have a pet so soon, and so did not have the supplies necessary for him to stay with her. She ended up sharing her meal with him since she did not have any cat food, but assured him she would remember to pick some up when she came home the next day.

Her work day must have been hectic though, for she had forgotten and came home looking worn with the stench of blood, death, and that particular sterile smell accustomed to hospitals sticking to her.

To most, it would be an off putting scent. For him, he was quite use to it from his own life and experiences.

He wouldn't call it comforting, that would be an entirely wrong description of it, but it was familiar and brought with it memories.

Underlying those smells, was purely her. He was surprised to find how delectable her scent was to him, and how strong it came through under everything else. He acknowledged his liking of it, but refused to think on it any further or let it affect him in any way.

Molly turned her head in search of that sly little creature who had slept on her couch last night and who was so quiet when he walked that he had scared her heart into her throat in the morning as she got ready for work when he seemed to just show up right behind her.

Brown eyes met mythical blue. She gasped in surprise and her hand fluttered over her chest. The cat did it again, appearing right there on the counter where he sat watching her without her even realizing he had moved from the living room where she had found him after coming home sun bathing in one of the last rays of light still showing before the sun set.

"Are you going to make a habit of that?" Her voice came out with a small squeak as if she were a mouse under the gaze of a cat hunting her.

His only response to her question was a turn of the head and look of confusion - which to her was absolutely adorable every time he did that certain head tilt move. She elaborated, though she still didn't know why she was crazy enough to go along thinking the cat could understand her anyway.

"You are trying to scare me aren't you? Just showing up places, not making a sound… I don't even know how you manage that, being so silent when you move." She gave him an accusatory look. His head reverted to its normal position and a glint of mischief shined in his eyes as he seemed to smile at her. She scoffed at the look he gave her. "I knew it, you are doing it on purpose." She said indignantly.

He wasn't actually doing it to frighten her, though he found it to be a most amusing response, he simply made no sound because he had learned not to. He had to be stealthy and silent, it was the best way to live, to survive, if you went unnoticed. Since it was a habit, he couldn't break it and he ended up giving her a fright ever time he appeared near her.

She was going to have to buy him a bell to put around his neck, she thought obstinately as she turned back and continued cooking.

"I made extra for you. Sorry I didn't go to the shops yet. Completely left my mind. I also should get you a bed, probably a liter box too, maybe a collar- preferably with a bell on it." She glanced over at him to see he looked angry and offended by her words.

He refused to have a collar, to show he was her property, he was nothing of the sort. She would debilitate him if she put a bell on him, alerting his presence everywhere he went - he would stubbornly refuse both if she attempted to give him either. He didn't need a liter box, she left the window open - although it was a stupid thing for a woman living alone to do, at least she did it to the one that was small and not easily accessible to humans - and he could go out on his own. A bed was also unnecessary, he slept on the couch just fine. She had offered her bed to him as well, and although her extra warmth would be highly welcome and well appreciated, he decided against lying with her.

She took the glare to mean something she said did not sit well with the cat. "What? Do you not want those things?" She was bewildered by this creature and everything about him.

When he nodded indicating he, in fact, did not want any of what she had suggested, she took that and spoke of it no more.

That was when she noticed the food starting to burn in the pan. She uttered a series of swears, as he watched on amused, and she quickly removed the food.

She sighed disappointed, but salvaged most of the meal and went about sharing it with him.

**(O.O)**

It was surprising how well the cat seemed to be able to move with the hurt arm, she mused. He had managed to even jump up on the counter earlier and still without a lick of sound to accompany it.

Speaking of the wound, Molly got up from her finished meal and put the dishes in the sink before approaching the cat to check its injury.

He let her pick him up and carry him to the couch where he was set back down and the kind woman softly took his arm in her hand as she had yesterday. He hated this, feeling helpless, feeling like he needed someone, but he couldn't very well take care of his own injury and had to rely on this woman. Part of him wanted to resent her for it, for making him give into being taken care of - he couldn't though, and it frustrated him all the more.

Slow and careful, she unwrapped the bandaging she had covered his wound with. He made no move to harm her and she carried on applying the antiseptic cream and new bandage on his arm.

"There we go. You are doing very good. Just a little more and it'll be over. I'm sorry if it hurts at all." He listened to her soothing words as she treated him and found it was rather comforting, he found he felt safe with her, felt he could trust her. That look must have shown through because the next thing he knew she was done and now petting him, making him start to actually purr in satisfaction.

"Such a good boy. You did so good. If I had any treats, I would make you fat with them. You really are a sweet thing aren't you." She cooed as she continued her petting until he seemed to snap out of his lulled relaxed state she had put him in when he discovered he was enjoying her touch and literally purring for her.

He shook making her remove her hands, then jumped off the couch and away from that woman and her deceptively wonderful hands. How she could bring him apart with such ease was startling and frightening all in one, yet some part of him found it intriguing, fascinated that she had this odd sort of power over him, able to render him putty in her hands.

He wanted to hate it because he was never at anyone's mercy, he was always the one in control. But the way she was so tender with him, making it so very easy to trust her and allow himself to fall under her sweet touches, it left him powerless and without control, still unable to hate her for it or make himself not feel the allure she presented.

She only sighed at his behavior, something she would quickly learn changed often and would have to adjust and get use to. One minute he would be cold and distant, not letting her near him at all and escaping from her touch, the next he was following her about in the flat or sitting with her on the couch where he let her pet him and he would sink into her touch completely and enjoy listening to the words she would speak to him even if they were sometimes mushy.

It was like he was fighting himself and her at the same time over giving in or staying away. Not sure if he should allow himself the pleasure and joy she brought, lighting up his rather dark life, or if he should get as far away from her light before it burned the both of them.

**(O.O)**

Days seemed to fly by like this. They formed a sort of tentative acceptance of each other and one another's habits.

She would often tell him of her day and of observations she made or funny stories and he would listen sometimes with rapt attention others he seemed in his own world, but most of the time it happened as she petted him bringing a kind of comfort to both.

He got use to her turning on some music when she would clean, and sometimes when she cooked as well, usually resulting in her doing her own sort of dance to the music and occasionally singing along with the words. He took it as another way for her to relieve stress while being very silly, he couldn't help but like it finding it funny and endearing from that peculiar charm she had about her.

He found her to be just about as odd of a creature as she found him to be. Although he could see why he would win if it were a competition and he could see the way she eyed him as if he was the strangest being she had ever come across, and it was entirely true.

He would sometimes greet her when she came home, other times he would be too busy doing his own thing.

What he did when she wasn't around remained a mystery to her, and sometimes she would leave in the morning without even having gained his attention once and would come home to find him in the exact same spot as he had been when she left him. It was those times that she worried about the cat and made sure to check on him.

He would look annoyed at her for having disturbed his weird trance like state, then brush it off when he seemed to realize he hadn't moved the entire day and that she was simply worrying over him, not purposely trying to distract him.

The toys she bought him seemed to go untouched until one day she came home to find a very odd sight. Her cat had, for some unexplainable reason, took apart some of the thread pieces of the toys and looked to have almost been trying to decipher something about them, as if they were foreign objects that needed dissecting.

The odd behavior of this cat was something she got use to, well as best as one could get use to their pet doing such strange things.

However the most disturbing thing she ever found her cat doing was a time when she had come home from her second date with a sweet guy named Eric she had met at a coffee shop when she accidently bumped into him and spilled his coffee all over his shirt and tie. Instead of the reaction she thought he would have, she ended up exchanging phone numbers with him.

After the second date, she walked into her flat and made her way into her room to remove her jewelry and clothes to take a shower. She was passing by the living room where she left a light on for her cat - who she really needed to name, but couldn't seem to come up with the right one, nothing seemed to fit this odd creature - when she started toward him after noticing him on the floor.

That wasn't the weird part, obviously, it was what he was doing. A book lie under his paws that kept the pages open while he read the words on the page.

She literally stopped dead in her tracks and a loud gasp made the cat's head flick up from the page and stare right back at her. It was then that she _finally_ freaked out. Every odd experience she had with this cat seemed to whirl in her mind as she couldn't quite process what she was seeing, her cat reading…_**reading**_. No cat should be able to comprehend at such a level.

He hadn't meant to get caught, he had been too enwrapped in the book that he didn't notice her before and now he could see what a huge mistake it was to have risked reading while she was only to be gone for a short while on her date.

She continually repeated the word _no_ and the phrase _this is not possible_ while seeming to have a meltdown pacing back and forth and coming to a stop only to stare at her cat again and repeat the cycle once more.

She was somewhere between frightened and amazed, but knew for sure that it was not natural. It definitely freaked the hell out of her. _Whose cat knows how to read for crying out loud! _

He just watched the scene unsure of what to do, what she would do, if she would throw him out, try to harm him thinking he was some king of abomination, or what. All he knew was he wasn't going to move until she figured out her next move.

As it happened she eventually calmed down and then simply stared at him for a good long minute before turning away retreating into her bedroom.

No consequences ever came from it much to his surprise, but unbeknownst to him, she woke up with a headache and a memory of her cat reading and shrugged it off thinking it a delusion, a trick of the mind, a product of the wine she drank on her date. Something in the back of her mind nagged at her and refused to let her simply forget it though, so it remained there stuck, permanently seared into her mind.

From then on he hid his eccentric activities from her as best he could. He didn't know why he bothered, or why he chose to still stay, his paw had healed and there remained a small fading scar, and he didn't need to remain there any longer, yet he did.

He had fallen into a comfortable routine and actually found that he liked it, liked being here, being taken care of by her, just having her there giving him attention and affection.

Those thoughts simultaneously scared him and made him happy. He didn't understand it and he wanted to turn away from her, from all of it- those sweet touches, kind adoring words, and soft chocolate brown eyes that drew him in much too far for his own good imploring and luring him to stay for a little while longer- and just leave.

He told himself almost daily since his wound had healed that he would leave. He didn't belong there. Not anymore. Still he stayed without a reason to explain it while knowing full well he should just go.

…

So…yeah this is happening. If you liked it let me know. Thanks. Until next time.


	3. To Name Him Is To Keep Him

Thank you all for the wonderful reviews. I am so glad you all like it. I know it has been a really long time since I updated, but I hope you guys are still with me here. Sorry it took sooo long.

Oh and by the way, the comment from CloudCuckooLandHasAQueenabout bringing home a date, we are totally on the same page there. Why do you think I mentioned she was dating someone to begin with? Insert _eyebrow raise_ and **evil smile** here. Just you wait, just you wait.

My imagination is all I own, not Sherlock.

…

More time passed. He learned more about her, she about him.

A weird feeling continued to increase within him concerning the woman whom he remained with, one that he refused to acknowledge.

For her, she found she quite enjoyed this cats company, finding comfort and warmth from him just as he did her. Yet, he was also something of an enigma, a puzzle that was proving very difficult to fully figure out, but she would not give up. She did love a challenge and it was exciting to try and unravel the mystery that was her very strange cat.

**(O.O)**

It was a little over two months now since she found him and took him home. He had disappeared again for a whole day and night only to be there again in the morning just as he had done last month. She questioned where he had been, expected no response, and got none except a sly smile that she couldn't help but think was arrogant and imagined if he were human it would exude just that.

She let it go of course, just happy that he still continued to come back. It made her worry when he would leave sometimes, thinking he might be gone for good one of these times that he slipped out the window and she would never see him again. He knew he should, really just finally leave and not return, it was better for everyone if he did - before it got…complicated.

He just couldn't bring himself to desert this woman who had taken care of him, and continued to take care of him, who genuinely seemed to like him and wanted him there, who appeared so lonely in her life- with the loss of her father during university and estranged from her mother that left her when she was young to marry another then replacing her with her half brother who was approximately eight years younger than her- that he didn't want her to be sad if he left, he had become something of her friend and he didn't want to hurt her.

But it wasn't all just for her, his mind betrayed him, he was very much aware that he wanted to remain here with her even if it was selfish and even if there could be consequences should something happen.

It was like getting a glimpse of something he could never have, something right in front of him that he need only reach out and take - the results of revealing the truth, though, would undoubtably be catastrophic and worse than leaving well enough alone and getting as far from her as possible - and it hurt to think about.

He beat that part of him down, feelings were not something he needed, no good would come of it. He could hear a ghost of his brother's voice in his head mocking him, mocking his _sentiment_. Another voice battled that one, someone he called his friend, that told him that people needed friends and it was okay to feel.

He blocked all of those out and just enjoyed the hands running along his fur making him feel relaxed, calm and content. He had grown use to this, allowing himself to just enjoy her attentions, although right now it was divided between the program she was watching - something about a time traveling doctor that he actually admitted he rather liked - and giving him _love_ as she called it.

Apparently her version of love involved a lot of touching, and he was vaguely aware of his mind wondering if it would be the same if he were currently a human man before her, would she devote her love and attention to him like this?

_No_, he refused those thoughts, he would not even think of it. He suddenly felt the need to get away from her that very instant. This was bad, he told himself.

He cannot get attached. Whatever these budding _feelings _\- the sneer was practically tangible in his thoughts- were, he would have none of them. He would make sure to distance himself from them as quickly as possible.

It was like she could literally feel the shift in his mood before he even stood up and retreated from her touch, affecting an air of indifference to her- and those hands- as she attempted to reach out and stop him from leaving, breaking the comfortable moment from a second ago.

He simply dodged her and continued on his way as she let her hands fall back to the couch with a roll of her eyes at the cats ever changing behavior.

He returned a while later, he _always_ did. She welcomed him back with a smile before going back to watching the television. Some other show was on now, one she clearly wasn't very vested in, but she didn't seem to want to read or do any other activity. Must be tired, or pondering over something, he couldn't decide which.

Her mind was occupied, and she didn't know what to do about her situation. It was Eric, the guy she had been dating, he hadn't called yet and she was getting a bit worried that he was no longer interested. She hadn't expressed these fears out loud though, not even just to her cat.

Once again he joined her on the couch, but remained on the other side where he was a safe distance away from her and her sweet touches- it was wrong of him to enjoy being with her, or just simply near her, so much.

She didn't seem to mind, he was surprised at how accommodating she was to him and his behavior. Mood swings as John would call them, claiming him to be like a petulant child who never learned how to properly behave or function, instead acting out or however he pleased as it suited him to the effect of gaining whatever he wanted.

The woman sitting with him now was probably the only other person who had ever accepted him and his mannerisms without thinking him a freak for it. It made something in his chest constrict at the mere thought of what she would think and do if she knew the truth.

It was rather painful, he would be losing something precious, a friend, something he didn't find often- or ever really. Very, _very_, few people could ever be counted as such by him. Never before had it been a woman. Not even Mrs. Hudson, mostly because she was more like a mother figure than what Molly was seen as. That was just the problem though, wasn't it? She was not exactly his friend, but she also was something important to him, someone he cared for and who appeared to care a great deal for him. She was also in the dark about the truth of his situation, and her finding out would be, well a bit not good.

He just didn't know how to explain it - what she is to him. Instead it remained a confusing mystery.

He looked over at her, she looked comfortable and far off somewhere in her own mind, yet relaxed, at peace, at _home_. He found he desperately wanted that feeling, wished he could share in it with her right then, but also pushed away the idea at the same time- not wanting to be held down by anything, not wanting to _ruin_ anything.

And he would ruin it, if he stayed, he knew he just would at some point. He should leave before that happens, before she finds out.

He doesn't.

**(O.O)**

With the weekend off, Molly gladly took the time to just unwind by lazing about in her flat. With no one as company but the black cat with the beautiful eyes, she felt no need to put on any pretenses, she could be herself and let her guard down- it was only her cat with her after all.

Eric, the man she was still dating- maybe this one was actually going to last, she thought hopefully- was back from his weeklong business trip and had finally called her about going out tomorrow. It would be the fifth date now.

She wasn't up much for going out this weekend, but agreed to it anyway. For a bit there she had worried that, after they had spent the night at his place after their fourth date, he wasn't going to be interested anymore. When he told her he had a business trip to go on, her worries only increased believing he could be just making up an excuse to get out of their relationship. Or to head off the formation of a relationship with her if he didn't feel they were already in one.

Then he had called her after he got back and talked with her- she may have done a small dance in her living room under the ever watchful eye of her cat- the call did a lot to ease her internal distress.

Now it seemed he was still very much interested in continuing on with her, much to her joy and a certain blue eyed creatures displeasure.

Currently she sat comfortably on her couch. Once again she absently watched a show while he sat in front of her on the coffee table also barely paying any attention to the people on the screen. A sort of guessing game she came up with being played, distracting both from the program.

"How about Toby?" Another suggestion escaped her lips.

The cat gave her an un-amused look and shook his head in distaste.

It was a fun little game they played, had been playing for a while now, where she tried to pick a good name for her cat, but none of her names ever seemed right. He refused each one, either with a shake of the head or an entirely bored look. Once she even elicited a sort of snarl of disgust from him which made her burst out laughing at it.

"Come on, I like the name Toby." She said with a defiant smile as if she were seriously thinking about just calling him that anyway, which highly alarmed him. She laughed when she saw the horror written all over his face and decided not to torture him by calling him a name he clearly didn't want.

"I actually thought about naming the cat I was going to adopt that, now I have you and I can't name seem to find the right name for you. Just help me out with this okay?" She implored because she felt bad not having a name to call him by when he had been with her for nearly three months now.

He looked angry all of a sudden and she couldn't fathom why that look was directed at her.

She just said she _had_ him. She implied he was hers! He wasn't, isn't, refuses to let her claim him as such. How dare she! His mind raged and he hated that he couldn't snap at her and throw harsh biting words that would cut her down and make her know exactly how he felt about her supposedly _having_ him, as if she **owned** him.

He immediately left her and stocked off as he heard her trying to get him to come back with clear confusion lacing her voice which followed him out the window.

Of course he came back- he wasn't sure how long it had been since he left, he had been too caught up in his own mind, but calculated it had been less than two hours. He really couldn't force himself to just stay away as much as he tried to convince himself to do just that.

She only smiled at his return and welcomed him back home.

Home. That word struck him. It felt like he hadn't truly had a home in such a long time. Was this now his home? He supposed it had become the place he always wanted to come back to- no matter how hard he tried not to, how hard he tried to fight himself and the pull to come back. He felt comfortable, warm, and safe here. He felt…accepted by this woman and her embrace of him into her life and into her home.

He caved. It was official, this was his home now and that also meant she technically owned him. He was hers. He could imagine how John would react, even worse Mycroft. Oh what a joy it was going to be to have to deal with Mycroft, to sit through his mockery at him finally giving in and accepting his role as a cat, becoming a housecat, being owned by someone. He could hear it all now. He was never going to live it down, even if he ever returned to what he once was, it would always remain there, he had allowed himself to become domesticated and belong to another.

He relented, since he was accepting that this was the place he now called home. Whether because of the building itself or the woman in it, still remained the ever nagging question he could not find the answer to, or maybe didn't want to take the answer that was supplied to him when he wondered about it.

He knows he has grown too close to her, too fond of her, too complacent here. He knows it, yet is at a loss as to how to fix it- besides hurting her by running off in the night and abandoning her.

It was like her very existence taunted him, though. Her smile and her laugh- all versions that he had witnessed and categorized- were seared into his mind and often gave him odd feelings, not bad, just new and different. Halfway between frightening and wonderful, yet still making him want to feel it and feel more with her, for her. Her voice had similar affects on him when she praised him or coddled him or soothed him.

Her ever expressive face hid nothing away from his eyes and she looked at him with such care and affection. Oh how she would hate him if she knew the truth, knew that she had let her guard down around him because she thought him a simple cat. Maybe not simple, but nothing more than a cat nonetheless.

It was exhaustive and wearing on him, this constant battle with himself. He struggled with what to do, what was deemed as right in this situation, and how he could ever explain himself to her if he chose not to finally get out of her life. He accepted that he could call this place home, stay and belong, but at the same time, he knew he shouldn't.

**(O.O)**

His mind was working on these problems as she continued on where they had left off in their game from earlier. She had been reading on her Kindle when he came back instead of watching the television, and put aside her story to scoop him up into her lap and hold and pet him while listing off more names.

Then he did something he knew was very risky. Since she truly wanted to name him, he wanted to give her his name and maybe even wanted her to start to realize he wasn't just what he appeared to be.

It may freak her out or she may brush it off as another weird thing he did. He truly didn't see how she couldn't tell he was different, well to some extent she appeared to comprehend that, but beyond that she seemed unable to put the pieces together. Maybe she was just as stubborn as him when trying to refuse what was there that they attempted to pretend wasn't.

He moved out of her lap and sat down a bit in front of her. She thought he was getting up to leave her again, then he sat down, then even weirder she noticed his tail swishing about with bizarre movements.

She laughed because she didn't know what he was up to now and he turned his head behind him to look at her while she giggled at him.

"What are you doing now?" She questioned through her soft giggling.

He stopped his tail, let it fall back the couch, before once again starting up the movements. Giving her a pointed look with the intent that she should follow along.

This time she did follow the swishing motions and noticed it looked as if he was writing out letters.

She began to compile the letters. "S?" The cat nodded. "L?" The cat shook his head and tried again.

It took a while with spelling it out and her guessing the correct letters. Throughout the entire thing she felt a sort of rising level of unease growing inside her. It was like the dream she had that night when she witnessed her cat reading, only this time she couldn't attribute her cat spelling something out for her, and correcting her if she was wrong, to alcohol. All she knew was that it was definitely not normal.

She was half convinced her cat was some kind of genius or possibly an escaped genetic experiment at this point. She rather felt like she needed a drink right about now. Maybe she was simply slowly going insane. Losing her mind because of her cat swishing his tail in a manner that made it appear as though he spelled out letters. That was probably all it was, she was making more of this then there actually was. Her cat was not literally telling her what it's name was, because that…that would definitely land her in the madhouse if she told anyone.

As she got the last letter, she ran over all of them in the correct sequence he had done them in to spell out a name. "Sherlock?" She asked half scared the cat would accept the name, half hoping the cat wouldn't and instead would continue swishing its tail to disprove her thoughts and rapidly growing panic attack.

He did, though, accept it that is. He fully turned around and faced her with a wide almost Cheshire cat like smile on his face that only unnerved her all the more.

She basically leapt from her seat and moved to her book shelf across from the couch. The cat, Sherlock apparently, watched her as his smile faded and wariness replaced it.

"Well, what an…interesting name." She licked her lips, both them and her throat felt rather dry all of a sudden. "Unique, really." She fingered a book behind her and pulled it out. "Only one other place I have heard of that name." She moved cautiously back toward the couch and its occupant. She laid the book on the coffee table in front of it.

"Did you have a previous owner who liked these books, perhaps?" She asked tentatively. If he was some escaped genetic experiment, he still would have belonged somewhere before and could have been given his name by whomever took care of him then.

She watched the cat like a hawk as he actually took a look at the book she had placed down. Oh yes, the cat definitely understood her, always had. If that wasn't unnerving enough, the look of recognition certainly was.

…

Sometimes I have this problem with writing where I find myself basically re-iterating what I already wrote over again, then I look back at what I wrote and go, 'I just wrote the same thing only with different words- what the hell am I doing?' Then I have to go and try to figure out how to erase some of it, but then comes the question, which part and how do I get my point across fully without all of it? So frustrating dealing with myself sometimes. Ah, the struggles of writing. Does that ever happen to anyone else?

I hope you enjoyed. Let me know, thanks.


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